Curing Scars
by Ccuriouser
Summary: Severus was helping Hermione to cure the scars from the war, and maybe the scars were not the only things that were cured. SSHG, HEA as always.
1. Chapter 1

**Thanks to laumirot, the problem has been fixed.**

 **...**

"This is it?" The brown-haired witch eyed the glass container in her hand with great interest, shaking it lightly, the gray jelly-like contain inside stirred lazily in response.

The wizard sitting on the armchair facing her did not bother to look up from his book, just gave her an impatient huff.

"All right, all right, stupid question, I know. No need to be so annoyed, Severus." She was babbling, she knew, but she was nervous and excited at the same time. The seemly innocent bottle she was holding was the newly invented cursed scars curing balm creating by none other but Severus Snape himself.

Never did Hermione tell anyone how much her scars bothered her, how they made her feel less confident, afraid to show her body to another person. There was only one time, when she got too pissed to even stand after a lovely dinner with couple glasses of good wine, that she whispered to Severus how she hated the marks on her body, how they stopped her from getting intimate with her dates and therefore none of the relationships stayed. Of course, she did not tell him that her hopeless infatuation with him was another reason for her failing love life.

.

.

 _"I just don't want them to look at me with disgust or pity or sugar-coated how these prove my bravery, you know."_ She remembered murmuring to the Potion Master supporting her drunken body who did not look even a tiny bit pissed. They were at her home, he was helping her to her bedroom. She remembered looking into the dark pupils and wanted desperately to kiss him but somehow managed to contain herself. She swore she heard him murmured after he got her into the bed. _"Scared or not, you are beautiful, Hermione."_ But it was probably just some illusion her foolish mind came up in the state of inebriated.

.

.

Now looking at this balm that Severus spent one and a half year to make, Hermione found herself unable to turn off the tiny voice in her heart whispering sweetly to her. "He did this for you. It could not be a mere coincident that he started to research the balm after that night." And a tiny flame of hope started to burn warmly inside her.

Severus chose this moment to close his book and stood up, and she just noticed how late the time was—almost nine o'clock. Time spending beside the fire with him always felt too short, thought it was a sweet torture with her constant ache to touch him.

"I should take my leave, Hermione, thank you for the dinner." They have had weekend dinner every two weeks for almost two years now, rotated between her place and his. They always read and talked after dinner, sometimes well into midnight. It seems that today was not one of those times.

"You don't need to leave this early, Severus, I haven't told you about the idiots I ran into on the last case yet." She smiled and stood up as well, unwilling to let him go.

"I thought you would need some time to…" The dark wizard cleared his throat, seemly unable to meet her gaze. "to test the balm."

Understanding draw pink to her cheeks. They both knew where her scars were, and to talk about them, albeit indirectly, was a bit too sensual for them both. But the tiny spark of hope gave her courage she did not have before, and what she said next startled both of them.

"I would like you to help me apply them." Hermione bit her bottom lip the moment those words came out, her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red. "I mean, won't it be better if you can gather the data yourself?"

"No doubt I can trust you with this, Hermione. That is why I asked you to help me test it at the first place."

"Oh, right." _Great, stop right here and let the poor man go._ "But…" She took a deep breath, stepped closer to Severus and placed a hand on his arm. His face was expressionless, she couldn't tell what he was thinking. "But I need you to be here, Severus. Didn't you say the process will be as painful as being cursed?"

"Your friends…"

"Never saw my scars, not all of them." She shook her head. "You are the only one that saw them all. Please? Severus. Help me apply it."

…

He knew the moment she knew, that he has done this all for her. Nineteen months and twelve days, all those time and effort spent on this single Potion, just for her. Just so that she could wear short sleeves during summer, and could be confident about her beauty.

…

 _"I just don't want them to look at me with disgust or pity or sugar-coated how these prove my bravery, you know."_ He remembered that night, the feel of her body pressed against his, her breath smelled like wine caressing his neck. And he was rigid and miserable, wanting nothing else but to kiss her and showed her no amount of scars would make him desire less of her. But his opinion did not matter, he was merely a friend, a college.

 _He had helped her into her bed. "Don't be foolish, girl, only a fool will think the scars matter."_ He wanted to tell her she was beautiful, brilliant, brave, if her date thought less of her because of her scars then he did not deserve her. But his mouth failed him, just like every single time he tried to say something nice to her. He could not risk ruining their friendship by showing his feelings.

 _"You think so?" She laughed a half laugh, and before he could stop her, took off her dress and lied down on the bed. "Look, aren't them disgusting?"_

He could still picture her that night, lying on the bed with only her undergarment, she was a goodness glowing softly under the golden candle light. Her scars were nothing compared to her beauty, still it pained him to know how she had suffered, and at the moment he knew he was a lost case.

 _"Scared or not, you are beautiful, Hermione."_ He whispered, unable to stop himself. Thankfully the young witch was already deep in dreamland. He had pulled the cover over her sleeping body (trying very hard only looking at her face), brought a hangover Potion to her bedside, and, despite all his self-control, placed a soft kiss on her forehead, his nose buried in her messy curls. It was the most intimate thing he has ever done to her, though she has hugged him in more than one occasion. Breathing in her scent, he promised himself that he would do anything to ease her pain, to remove the scars, to give her a chance to find someone she loved. _Then you could die broken-hearted when she got married._ He shoved the thought aside. As long as she was happy, it did not matter how his pathetic heart would feel.

…

 _You are a fool, Snape. She probably is thinking a polite way to turn you down._ He gave her the Potion without second thoughts, and only now realize what he did was akin to shouting his feelings on her face, and Hermione Granger was always a smart witch. He observed her closely but he could not interpret what she was thinking. It mattered too much for him that he did not dare to make a wrong guess.

Unable to bear the weight of her silence and the slow crack of his heart, he took his leave, never would he imagine she would ask him to stay and to help her to treat her scars.

Looking into her whiskey brown eyes, he was dumbfounded and enchanted, unable to do anything but to bend to her will.

 _Leave! Leave now! You old fool!_ His conscience was shouting.

"If you so wish." His body nodded and sat down.

 _You are in deeper trouble than you thought, Snape._

…

 _He stayed. He stayed!_ The hope burned a little brighter, a little stronger. Hermione let out the breath she did not know she was holding and smiled to the wizard sitting rigidly opposite to her. Looking at Severus, his face expressionless as ever, long black hairs fell forward half-covering his face, yet the uncertainty she always felt seemed to fade away. She had made up her mind. Tonight would be the night to show him how she felt before the fire of hope and love burned her alive. Though how, she had not the slightest idea.

They sat in silence for a couple long minutes, neither sure what to do next.

Finally, Hermione cleared her throat. "I would like to start now, that is, if you don't mind?"

"I see no reason to object." Severus shifted on his armchair, instantly changed into lecture posture. "Like I told you before, this Potion will extract the dark magic residue from the scars. During the process, you may experience flashbacks as well as the pain associated with the curse. The balm, after it absorbed all the dark magic, will turn into dark powders and left the scar bare. Further application of Dittany will be required to heal the wound. I would suggest you change into more comfortable clothes." His expression shifted a little and he averted his eyes. "That was why I said it would be better to have one of your friends to help you." He murmured, looking at the book on his knees.

Feeling extremely bold, she stood up and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "You are my friend, too. Severus. You seem to have troubles remembering this." Heart racing, she placed a quick kiss on his cheek and fled.

"I will go change." Her voice was trembling and she had no idea if he had heard her.

 _Oh god, oh god, oh god._ She closed the door of her bedroom and leaned to the wooden surface. "You can do this, Hermione Granger. Just keep breathing, everything will be fine."


	2. Chapter 2

_What. The. Hell. Just. Happened?_ Severus was frozen in place; his mind stopped function for a whole second because of the shock.

 _Did she just kiss him?_ His hand raised to the place her lips had touched, it was too quick for him to remember the feeling, but it was definitely not an illusion. Never has she kissed him, not even just a friendly peck on the cheek. And with all the wisdom he has, Severus could not think of a reason for why she did what she did.

 _You are overthinking again, old fool. She was probably just too excited to content herself. Didn't you witness she kissed the Potter and Wesley prats a million times before?_ He tried to ignore the heat of jealousy that ran through him with the thought of her kissing the boys, friendly kiss or not.

Let out a long breath, he stood up from the chair. _Don't think too much, Snape. Now get your damn arss up and set up the preparation._

He was just finished with everything when Hermione showed up in the living room again. His breath caught in his throat and he had to use every ounce of his Occulmency shields to lock down his wayward thoughts.

She was wearing a bathrobe.

She was _only_ wearing a bathrobe.

His blood rushed to his nether region and left him lightheaded.

 _Holy Merlin and his hairy balls, it was going to be a long night._

—

Standing before the dressing mirror, Hermione took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. The dark red bathrobe made her skin look soft and smooth. Its neckline was low enough to show that she wasn't wearing a bra underneath, but not too much to be inappropriate.

She was taking a big risk, dressing like this, specifically aim to seduce. Still, she could always claim that it was for practical reasons considering the positions of her scars. Adjusting the bathrobe one last time, Hermione tried her best to look confident, after all, he has seen her worse. And now she was almost sure that he was interested…

Another deep breath, she tried to calm down her wildly beating heart, but it was no use. Her palms were sweating, her tongue tight. For a moment she debated whether or not to abandon her plan, but she was a Gryffindor, and she would not let this perfect chance fly away.

—

The look of hunger and desire flashed across his face before he put on his mask of indifference was enough to give her courage to stay rather than ran back to her bedroom. The fact that she had unsettled him enough for him to pick up his old habit made her feel powerful, in charge.

 _And Merlin, if the man was not temptation himself._

All her nervous and uncertain was replaced by a fierce need to ravish the man sitting innocently on the armchair by the fire. With only his white shirt, sleeves rolled up showing the pale muscles underneath as well as the gray burn mark in place of the dark mark, he looked undeniably sexy. She moaned inwardly when she realized he had tied back his hairs as well, a habit that always made her want to sneak a hand into his hairs and messed them up, preferably when she was kissing him.

 _The armchair was at a perfect height for her to kneel before him, to open his buckle and…_ She wet her suddenly dried lips and stopped her _very_ inappropriate train of thoughts.

Hermione flashed him an innocent smile. "Do you think the sofa was good enough? Or would the bed…"

—

"Sofa will suffice." His voice was hoarser than he liked, Severus cleared his throat. He was having enough trouble controlling his libido like this, and mentioning the bed… The image of her lying in bed the other night flashed before his eyes and Severus forced up another layer of the mental shield. _Be professional, old man. You are here to help her not to fantasize about her._

She nodded and moved to sit down on the long sofa. Shifting her position so that she was facing a little sideward along the couch, then pulled an ottoman to her with wandless magic.

"I would like to start with the one on my left arm." She said, indicating him to sit down on the ottoman. Severus could tell that she was nervous and assumed it was because of the worries about the treatment.

"The balm is safe, I've tested it on myself." He sat down on the ottoman, only to find himself not so far apart from her chest. The scar from Dolohov was a vicious snake across her skin, yet all he wanted was to push her back into the sofa and kiss along the scar to her soft breasts, to murmur sweet things to her, to show her how a man in love would look at the scars and only saw them as part of her beauty….

He dragged his gaze back to her face with some difficulty and firmly kept them there.

Something flashed behind her warm brown eyes, and she gave him a beautiful smile. One of her hand raised up to cup his cheek. It took almost all his self-control to not lean into her touch. "I trust you, Severus. I would never doubt the quality of your potion."

 _How wrong for her to trust him so much, to be so open to him. If only she knew what he was thinking._ He scowled, wandlessly _Accio_ the balm. "Put your right hand on my shoulder."

Hermione gave a confused sound but followed his order. "The flashbacks can be very real. Touching something can help you focus on the present." He explained, trying hard to ignore the warm radiant from her palm on his shoulder, focusing instead on the task at hand.

The witch made his work even harder by shifting closer to him, thigh brushed against his. "How painful will it be?" She was biting her lips now, an indication of her nervousness.

"As bad as when you were cursed." Her face paled a shade or two, and he did the most impulsive thing. "It will be alright. I will be here." He said in the softest voice he has ever used, hand lightly squeezed hers, thumb brushed along her knuckles.

She blushed, gaze fell to their combined hands. _Too much, he has gone too far._ He paused and tried to withdraw his hand, but she covered it with her other hand, fingertips brushing against his wrist. "Thank you, Severus." She placed a chased kiss on his cheek. All his senses aflame by the feeling of her soft lips moving on his skin. Severus swallowed hard.

"Hermione…" He could not take this anymore, he did not understand what game she was playing at, yet he was losing himself already. "Show me your scar. It is time to start the treatment."

—

 _"….Tell the truth, tell the truth!" Bellatrix was screaming, silver knife sank into her body. Her left arm was on fire, the cursing knife craving her flash, replace them by fear and madness._

 _"Please, no, please…" She was begging helplessly, it hurt so much, too much. "I wasn't lying, please." The Dark witch's face getting closer, she was enraged, black eyes glimmering with crazy fire._

"Hermione. Hermione!" Someone was calling her name, the voice was low and comforting. "Hermione, look at me. It is not real, just flashbacks." Something warm was covering her cheek and the raving black orbs turned into a pair of concerned obsidian pools.

"Severus…" She breathed his name, fingers digging into the firm muscles of his shoulder. Half of her conscience was still captured at the memories of the Malfoy Manor, but the pain was diminishing. Hermione looked down at her left arm through teary eyes and found it was bleeding because of the torn-apart scars. The Potion Master, once confirmed she was back to her senses, started applying Dittany as well as cleaning the wounds.

"Shhhh, it is alright, it is alright." Severus crooned, lightly stroked away her tears and caressing her cheek, his face a picture of worried and concentration. The unexpected tenderness like a cool silk soothing her aching skin, finally brought back her full attention.

With the return of her conscience, Hermione suddenly realized two things. One, her right hand was still clenching his shoulder, which she released immediately with a muffled apology. Two, their faces were inches apart. She only needed to lean a little closer for their lips to meet. The thought made her heart thrummed, lips dried, the dull pain from her scar completely forgotten.

Severus seemed to become aware of the same things, at least the second one. His hand stopped on its track, unreadable emotions storming behind those dark eyes. Their gazes and breaths mingled in the air, tension growing heavier between them with each passing second.

Hermione was half-mad with expectation and anxiety. When it looked like he did not attempt to make the first move, she decided to follow her Gryffindor instinct.

 _All right, there we go._ Hermione swallowed and wetted her lips, about to close the distance between them…

"Forgive me." He stood up abruptly and rushed into the lavatory. She stared at the empty ottoman for a few seconds, unable to proceed what had just happened.

 _Did I scare him off? Was it too fast?_ She was confused and more than a little hurt. _Has she read things wrong? Maybe he wasn't interested in her. Merlin, what has she done?_

She covered her faces with both hands and groaned.

—

His hands were shaking. It was not a good sign, not a good sign at all. Severus splashed another handful of water to his face, trying to cool down his fervent thoughts which seemed unable to think about anything other than how the witch he has left behind would taste like, feel like. When he again caught himself imagining how she would be like in the throes of passion, he gripped the edge of the sink and shoved his head down the cold stream.

 _She was going to kiss him. Kiss. Him. Him._ Even with the water physically cooling his head, Severus could not stop the heat coming up his cheeks with the thought. He understood why—she was merely seeking comfort after those awful flashbacks.

 _And he almost let her, wanting to take advantage of her moment of weakness_.

His fingers clutch onto the cold sink, unable to stop his wondering mind turning to the unavoidable direction. _If she did_ , if she pressed her lips to his, he knew what he would do. He would start with innocent comforting kisses, gently coaxing her to open up for him. That would not be enough though, no, he would proceed to bewitch her senses until she forgot who was kissing and caressing her, until she was aflame with desire just like him. _And then,_ He groaned lowly, no amount of cold water could calm him now, his imagination ran wild. _he would take her to bed and worship every skin, every dip and curve…_

He was hard and throbbing now. Severus sighed and pulled his head out of the stream. Cold water ran along his skin, yet it did nothing to abate his fervent desire. He pushed his back against the cool stone wall, knowing if he did not find release now he would not be able to survive the rest of the night.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, one hand moved to his fly. He thought about her smile, the way her eyes darken when she wet her lips. With a shuddering low growl, he took hold of his steel-hard shaft, imagining it was her warm wet wall that clutched him. Images dancing behind his eyes—her skins glittering with sweat, her lips red and plump from kisses, her eyes looked into his with adoration, her voice screamed out his name…

"Hermione." He came with her name on his lips. Bonelessly, he slowly slid down to the floor, a hollow kind of satisfaction and shame consumed him.

 _What a pathetic dirty old man he was, thinking about her like this. Some friend he turned out to be._

—

When he reappeared in the living room, he was the picture of an aloof and indifferent Potion Master, every bit of untoward thoughts were carefully locked behind the darkest corner of his mind. He stopped short at the doorway, waiting to see her reaction and mentally braced himself for the worse.

Sitting straight on the sofa, she looked at him with an uninterpretable expression and postured for him to sit back down. If she found him stay at the lavatory longer than necessary, she did not mention it.

Severus walked across the room cautiously and sat down at the ottoman again, very carefully keeping a respectable distance between them. He found himself unable to meet her gaze, but when he did, he caught a look of determination on her face. Severus wondered briefly if she decided to toss him out, finally realized the mistake she almost made.

He did not get the chance to voice his question, for she slowly loosened her bathrobe and revealed the full scar in her chest.

* * *

 _ **Please let me know how do you think about this chapter! This is what I have in store so far. So I am not sure when will the next update be. But as always, your reviews will be my energies :) Hope you enjoy this story as much as I do**_


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry for the short update. My life is getting on the way and being a new graduate student can be so very busy. But I finally get the hang of it and now have some time to pick up my stories, yay! I planned to finish this one with three chapters, which as you can tell, ain't going to happen. But we are near the end of it! So stay tuned for the next couple chapters (wink).

…

The tension was still there, she could feel it, and she knew he could feel it. Yet with an unspoken agreement, they both pointedly ignored it, even though it was thick enough to suffocate them.

She noticed him deliberately keeping a professional aura, making minimal contact and all that. But he failed to hide his concern when she cried out from the pain and flashbacks. She reached forward, fingers gripped on strong muscles, needed him to ground her in reality. Severus was still like a statue, but his hands were placed beside her waist, firmly supporting her. The scar from Dolohov wasn't as bad as the one from Bellatrix, and Hermione tried her best to focus on the present. Fighting against the strong pull of memories, she forced her attention on the man in front of her. She cataloged the length and depth of the deep line on his forehead, the darkness of his eyes, the warmth radiating from the palms resting against her skin.

Let out a shuddered breath, she placed her forehead almost forcefully against his, fingers flexed against wire-like muscles. Warm brown eyes looked deep into black ones. Hermione breathed in his scent until all those awful images vanished in front of her eyes, until all she could see and feel was him.

He was tense, muscles hard almost like stones, his breath barely audible. She could push her luck by trying to kiss him again, but she had decided to go for a more subtle routine. _Well, at least as subtle as she could manage._

Hermione let go of him and fell limply across the couch once her pain eased to slight sting. Severus relaxed fractionally, unreadable emotions flashed across those dark depths, gone as quick as they appeared. He gently pushed her to shift until she lied down on her back and started silently working Dittany on the wound.

Hermione observed him with half-lidded eyes, enchanted by the way his long fingers handling the small bottle of Dittany with surgical precision. Silence fell upon them like spider webs, the only sound was her exhausted heavy breathing. The feeling of skin and flesh being sewed together by Dittany was not a pleasant one, but it was nothing compare to his intense gaze focusing on her wound, pinning her down. She lazily wandered what would happen if she pulled him down and kissed him, let his heavy weight settle against her exposed skin… She shivered lightly at the imagination, right when the last drop of the Dittany touched her skin. Mistaking her reaction to the one of pain, he flipped his gaze up to check on her.

Their gazes met and tangled, time seemed to freeze until he stood up abruptly and stepped back, clearing his throat. A realization hit her—

 _All her scars have been attended to._

Again, her mouth acted before her brain.

"Severus, will you stay? Just a little longer?"

 _Well, subtle my arse._

。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。

He shouldn't make that damn balm. At least he shouldn't deliver it himself after finishing it.

 _What's so wrong with owl delivery?_

It was too late to regret what has been done. Nothing happened tonight seemed right. He couldn't understand himself, neither could he understand her.

Drawing a deep breath, Severus turned his gaze toward the young witch curled up beside him on the sofa, covered by a gray-blue blanket. She had fallen asleep, using his thighs as a pillow. Her chest was floating up and down with her breathing. He has gone out of his way to please her, he knew. Yet he was unable to say no when she asked him to stay. How she could find comfort with his company was always a mystery to him.

 _Since when did he become the one she looked for comfort support?_

Looking back, it all started with simple, friendly hugs. He was too stupid to realize the danger of those innocent gestures. If only he knew they would lead to her seeking comfort from him when her orange monster passed away…Ever since that night, his role shifted from a friend to a comforter. He failed to count how many times she had come to him, upset or angry or stressed, asking for a hug. Those time she always ended up curling beside him on his couch, sharing the worn-out blanket he had since he graduated from Hogwarts until she gave him a new one the Christmas two years ago…

"Hmmm..." Hermione moaned in discomfort, shifting in her sleep. Her face nuzzled against his pants. Subconsciously he placed a hand on her soft curls, lightly caressing them in a soothing manner.

 _Things has changed between them, but to what direction?_ He failed to fathom her actions, didn't dare to hope what would be the meanings behind them. Gratitude, maybe? Or perhaps his worse nightmare has come true, that she had viewed him as a father-figure since she had lost her parent due to the strong memory charm…

"Severus?" His brooding was interrupted by her quietly calling his name. He looked down and saw her has shifted so that she was laying on her back, sleepy eyes looking up to him. His fingers, without his permission, were lovingly tracing the side of her neck. He quickly retreated the offended digits, feeling heat creeping up his cheeks.

Luckily, the young witch did not seem to pick up what had happened. She just blinked several times to chase away the sleepiness and shifted into a more comfortable position on his laps.

"I was thinking. Severus, have you tried to heal your scars?"

….

Please let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

**_Here is the final chapter for this story. Yay! Now I can go and work on other ideas that are on my waiting list XD. Enjoy!_**

 _ **Ps. There will be M rated scene later in this chapter.**_

…

"I told you I've tested the balm on myself." He sounded defeated, turned his head to the side and crossed his arms. His hairs fell like curtains, covering his face.

She sighed, knowing she had stepped right into a dangerous territory. She sat up and turned toward him, legs folded beneath her. Tentatively, she placed a hand on his arm, finding him all tensed up.

"You know it is not what I imply, Severus." Her voice was gentle but sincere, her fingers tugging his shirt, urging him to look at her. When he did, his face was a mask again. His eyes were dark and full of ghosts.

"Hermione." He began, then paused, drawing in a long breath. "It doesn't matter. They don't bother me anymore. It doesn't worth the efforts to treat them."

He seemed calm, like he meant what he said, but his eyes betrayed him. Too bad for him, she had known him too well to fall for his act. "I don't think so, Severus. I think it is time for you to let go of all these scars. Don't let them punish you anymore."

A look of surprise flashed across his face, and she knew he didn't remember their awkward conversation about his scars. The one he initiated when he tried to make her feel better about hers.

"You told me my scars were not like yours, which were reminders of your sins. You think they are burdens you need to bear to be the one who survived." Slowly shaking her head, she blinked back the tears that were welling up in her eyes. She was unable to convince him that he deserved a happy life—that he had earned his freedom—at that time. It saddened her every time she thought about how much pain he was putting upon himself.

"They are." He said stubbornly, jaw set. "The things I've done…"

"Were forced upon your hands. During a war." She interrupted firmly, shifting so that she was kneeling in front of him, striding his thighs. She cupped his jaw so that they were eyes to eyes, determined to beat reasons into his head.

"I've done bad things, too. Not all of them was because of the war. None of them left a physical scar, but the memories were always there, tormenting me." She took a breath, voice shaking. "I won't pretend that I understand what you've been through, because I don't think I ever can. But that doesn't mean you should torture yourself by them with the rest of your life."

"You are a good man, Severus. You've died once for all the things you've done. It has been three years since the war. It is time to live your life."

He was speechless, looking at her with such a complex expression that made her want to cry. She moved her hands to rest on his shoulders, waiting for the meanings of her words to sink in.

He was sitting up straight, eyes locked with hers. She could almost see the battle within him. Time expanded between them, seconds spanned into minutes. Her living room was suddenly too quiet. The constant ticking of her clock was slowly driving her mad.

 _Tick, tick, tick, tick…_

Then he closed his eyes and laid back against the sofa, drew in a deep, shuddering breath. When his eyes opened again, something she never saw on him showed in their depths—confusion.

"I don't know how." He admitted quietly, like a helpless boy losing his way home. At this moment, he looked like something fragile and near broken—a fine Chinese sitting on the edge of a tilting table.

Millions of cursed knives had cut her heart into pieces and then someone sealed them back with hot iron string. It hurt so much she was unable to breathe. The need to comfort him was burning her alive, so she did the only thing she could think of—she hugged him, tightly, her forehead rested against his.

"We will find a way." Her voice was saturated with tears, but she didn't allow herself to cry. Somehow she knew she needed to be the stronger one here, need to be the solid base. "Let me treat your scars, and we will find a way together."

"We?" His voice was barely audible. His hands had moved to lightly rested on her waist. Their faces were so close their noses were almost touching.

"Yes, we." She uttered the words with all the confidence and determination she had. "You have me now, Severus, you don't have to struggle alone anymore."

The looked he gave her was out of anything she had seen in her life. He looked at her like she was a Goddess who just showed him a miracle; an angel who saved his soul; a heroine who rescued him from Hell.

It arrested her heart.

He sighed, giving up whatever fight he was having with himself. He slowly dropped his head to her shoulder, nose drawing a line from her temple to her neck. A shiver ran along her spine. She couldn't believe she went from almost crying to arouse in three seconds flat.

"I see." His warm breaths were fanning her skin, nose nuzzling her neck in a non-sensual way, like a puppy seeking comfort from his master. She found her ability to think slowly drifting away from her, so she expressed her confusion in the most intelligent way.

"Hmm?"

"Help me heal my scars, Hermione. Free me from their chains."

…

"They never have much of a chance when they were facing me." He explained his reasons to start with the ones on his back first, hands moving along the line of buttons. He was sitting on the ottoman with Hermione behind him. "Better started with the worst ones."

 _And he couldn't bear to see her look of pity or disgust._

His fingers had freed the final button from its hole, his shirt dropped down from his shoulder and hit the carpet with a quiet ruffle.

Behind him, Hermione drew in a shocking breath.

"I should've warned you." He snarled, glad that he couldn't see her expression. "My attackers weren't artists."

He was shocked when her arms slid over his shoulders and she hugged him from behind. Her cheek was pressed against his temple. She was shivering, drawing in small rapid breaths, no doubt attempting to stop herself from crying over his sorry ass.

At that moment, her words earlier finally sank in—he had her now, as a friend or something more didn't matter. She was here; she would be here.

Suddenly, he felt free. Small cracks broke along the walls of the prison he built for himself, the gold glittering of sunshine slipping into its darkness.

"Sentimental Gryffindor." He huffed, wanted to brighten her mood.

She snorted and retreated, his body felt cold without her there to warm them. "Be careful, Severus. Don't piss off your healer."

He turned his head, pleased to see her smile, eyes red but dry. "Should we started with your neck?" She asked, fingers touching Voldemort's parting gift.

He faced forward and shrugged. "Your choice, _Healer_ Granger."

"You are terrible." The laughter in her voice made him smiled. Then he felt the back of her left hand gently pressing into his palm. "You said it would feel better if you have something to hold on to." Her voice was small, a little bit shy.

"I would break your bones." He made sure his voice was deep and calm, didn't want to upset her further.

When he was in the memories he could no more tell what he was holding, the blanket he used when he was experimenting the potion has been torn so bad that he had to replace it. In the end, he decided it would be better not holding anything. Potions and healing charms could fix a bleeding palm well enough.

"You never go easy, don't you?" She sighed defeated, forehead dropped to the back of his head.

"Hardly." His lips were curving up, amused.

"Alright, just wait a minute." He turned and saw her walking toward her bookshelf, glancing through her extensive collection of books in searching for something. Once in a while, she would pull one out and flip through the pages, murmured something to herself.

Couple minutes later, she seemed to find the one she was looking for, her face lit up with excitement, and he felt himself melt by its warm.

When she came back and pushed her hand into his, there was a fade silver shimmering on her skin.

"Iron fist, really?" He lifted an eyebrow, even though she could not see it.

"Just hold it, will you?" She sounded adorably irritated. He heard her murmured the floating charm to the balm so that her right hand would be free to apply the potion.

His lips curled up and he wrapped his hand around hers. It was soft and warm and smooth—a porcelain teacup warming up by hot tea. A string in his heart flicked. He felt like a ship docked safely into its harbor after wandering on the sea for ages.

…

He wasn't lying when he said he would crush her bones. Hermione bit the base of her thumb to stop herself from crying when he cried and twisted in agony, hand gripping hers with force so strong that even the charm seemed to shutter.

She had tried to suggest they go slow, treating the scar part by part rather than in a whole, but he insisted this way, wanted to get it done fast. What was worst was that most of the scars were tangled together, new ones covered old ones. When she asked what would happen when applying the balm on the crossing area, his answer broke her again.

 _"_ _Flashbacks from all the curses would have a party." He tried to play it lightly, like it was nothing. "Your mind would get…rather creative."_

His cries died down, the scar was opened up, like a toothless mouth with an ugly soundless laughter.

"It's alright, I am here, Severus. It was just memories." She applied the Dittany. Her fingers had entwined with his, giving him as much support as she could.

Heavily panting, he lightly squeezed her hand in acknowledgment. Tenderly, she placed a kiss on the healed skin, just like she did to all the others. His muscles tensed for a brief moment, but he didn't say anything.

This was the last scar on his back that was caused by dark curses, there were still others that were from whips or even knives, but she knew they would be a topic for another day. She silently stepped around him.

Her hands balled into tight fists when she saw the wild, ugly "Mudblood Lover" on his chest, her magic almost snapped from all the anger she felt for whoever had done this.

"You see, Bellatrix did have a fondness for branding people." He said in his calm, tell-tale voice as he did for all the scars she had treated. "It was after I begged _him_ to spare Lily's life." His tone got darker, with a bitter revenge. "After that, I've climbed my ladder high enough to avoid her humiliation."

"She died too peaceful." She bit out the words, thoughts running to think of a way to curse the death.

"I am sure she was cycling through every level of Hell now." He said gently, brushing a string of her hairs behind her ear. "It helps placing her face on every dead when reading _Inferno_."

That successfully tamed her anger, and she chuckled. "Never know you are so funny, Severus."

"Don't insult your elders, young lady." A ghost of laughter was hovering on his face in response to hers. "People may think you never learnt manners."

…

 _"_ _How dare you filthy half-blood to beg our Lord for the mudblood?" Her piercing voice was a form of torture all by itself, worst than nails scratching on glasses, especially after three rounds of Crucio. He clenched his teeth, hoping she was nearly done._

 _As a punishment for his audacity, the Dark Lord has given him to Bellatrix to 'teach him proper respect'. So he had to suffer through this. Attempted to fight back would only end with worse torture._

Lily would be safe. This was all for Lily. Lily.

 _The crazy witch suddenly went quiet. Observing him with a twisted excitement, she summoned a silver knife to her. "You know, little half-blood, my baby here hasn't tasted blood for quite a long time. Mind if she took a sip?"_

His cries echoed through the walls, crashing against her crazy laughter.

"Severus! Severus! It is just a flashback. Bellatrix is dead." Someone was calling his name, a voice that made him feel safe and warm, his eyes focused on two molten ambers. "Look at me, Severus. It's alright. I am here."

"Hermione." He breathed, loosened his grip on her hand. The ones with Bellatrix was always the worse; the mad witch was indeed a piece of work. That was why he left it to the last, trying to build tolerance through the milder ones before facing the darkest.

She gently brushed his hairs behind his ear and smiled up at him. "Welcome back."

Silently, they watched the last piece of his sin healed under Dittany. This time when she bent down and kissed the skin, he knew it wasn't his imagination.

"Why?" He asked, voice husky, suddenly unable to take any torment anymore, even the bittersweet kind.

She looked up at him, bottom lip caught between her teeth, seemingly considering how to answer his question. He could see she had come to a decision before she opened her mouth.

"Let's talk about this tomorrow." She finally said, gently pulled him up from the ottoman by their still linked hands. "You should rest now. My guest room is ready for use."

…

Severus gradually woke up from the best sleep he had for years. It was a rather strange feeling—not waking up with a start. There were no nightmares, no dreams, just vague senses of warm and softness against his skin, a pair of chocolate brown eyes, kissable pink lips, and a sweet voice crying out his name in ecstasy.

His hand scowled down his face when he spotted another thing that hasn't happened in years—a morning condition. Growling, he walked toward the bathroom and took a shower.

The smell of bacon, sausages, eggs, and pancakes greeted him when he stepped out of the guest room, along with the sound of someone humming something off-key. He allowed himself a small smile. This was new, too. Normally he woke up way before her.

"Morning." He announced himself when he spotted her in the kitchen. She was wearing a tank top and a pair of sweatpants. Her messy hairs pulled up into a ponytail. A sudden impulsion hit him like a brick—he wanted to walk over and wrap his arms around her waist, to place a kiss on her exposed neck, to murmur something sweet into her ear.

He felt heat on his cheeks. _Damned his overactive imagination._

"Morning, Severus." Busy with breakfast making, she thankfully didn't turn to look at him. He schooled his expression and walked over to the counter. "How was your sleep? Mine was great. No even a hint of Bellatrix or Dolohov. I slept like a baby." She chanted happily, flipping a pancake to the plate.

"Residues of dark magic were known to affect one's mental." He replied, setting up the kettle. "Shall I make us tea?"

"Sure, thank you. Breakfast will be ready in a sec." She turned and gave him a smile bright enough to be the sun. He was stunned again by her beauty.

"No problem." He muttered, clearing his throat.

…

They ate their breakfast in their usual manner, talking about the properties and ingredients of the healing balm, debating over how dark magic influence one's health. The question from last night hovering around them like a ghost, neither of them mentioned it.

After they finished their foods, they moved toward the living room, still discussing whether the potion could be altered to treat fresh werewolf's bite. She stopped him in the middle of the living room. "You asked me why last night."

He was no doubt startled by her direct approach. He stopped dead in his track and turned toward her in a sharp movement. His gaze was piercing intensive, she felt like a mouse under the scrutiny of a cat. But she was not a Gryffindor for nothing, and she knew exactly what she needed to do.

…

"Because," She stepped closer to him, hands flat against his chest, hot as two iron bands. "because I can't stand to see you suffer, Severus. And I would do anything to ease your pain." She paused and wetted her lips, standing on her tiptoes. Her face was so close he couldn't breathe.

"Because I love you." She said, voice sweet like the best elf-made wine, and gently placed her lips on his.

…

He didn't push her away as she had feared. Instead, he pulled her against him and deepened the kiss with an almost mindless intensity. She felt fires burning along her veins, a raw hunger swept over her. She returned his kiss with equal madness, wanted to devour him.

Somehow she has forced him backward until he ungracefully fell upon the sofa, his groan muffled by her impatient lips which were eager to deepen the kiss. They both moaned when Hermione straddled his legs, her heated center grinding against his hardness.

"Hermione…stop… Too fast, too much." He dragged his lips from their passionate lip-lock, gasping for air. "I don't want to rush you…"

Hermione stopped her sensual attack of his delicious neck momentarily to looked at him, her warm hands already sneaked inside his half-opened shirt. _When did that happen?_

"No, Severus." She slowly rolled her hips against him, earning a deep growl from his throat. "Too slow, too little." She looked down at him with burning desire that matched his own.

He almost chocked by the intense emotions roaring through him by her simple words. It was a novel, heady feeling—being desired so.

A look of vulnerability flashed across her face, and she acted to move away from him. "If you don't want to…"

He stopped her by pulling her back for a passionate kiss with an impatient grunt, successfully put an end to her temporary self-doubt.

…

She was on fire. Everywhere he touched burned, anywhere was not connected to him feel cold and empty. So she pushed herself more firmly against him, arching her back when his mouth closed around one stiffened nipple.

"Severus!" Her magic, as eager as its owner, snapped out and stripped them both of their reminding clothing. The man currently had his head buried in her chest had the audacity to chuckle, the sound oddly ignited her further.

"My impatient know-it-all." He let go of her breast and purred into her ears, a hand slid down to her wet and throbbing core.

"Damn right I am." She half-growl when she captured his lips for another kiss. Her hand caressed down his chest and grabbed hold of his hard shaft. He cursed, head threw back against the couch. "Hermione, bedroom…"

She almost giggled at the idea that _he_ seemed to be the more cautious one here. It was rather sweet, really, but not what she needed right now.

"No. Here, now." She rose up and guided his hard length into place. The thickness of it made she sigh. Severus cursed rather creatively when her heat slowly engulfed him.

"Contraception…" The word was forced out through clenched teeth. His body rigid from the effort of not pounding into her like a mindless animal.

Seeing his control shuddering before her eyes, Hermione felt herself arouse even further.

"It's taken care of." She said breathlessly with a sweet kiss on his lips, sinking deeper down and finally taking all of him in.

It really has been a long time for her. She felt the slight sting of being stretched so fully. Still, the feel of him inside her was incredible and she soon felt the need to move, to get more.

He stopped her with two large hands on her waist, his breaths hot and heavy against her skin. "Slow…Gods, Hermione. It's been too long…I can't…." He placed fervent kisses along her neck, her collarbone, and her shoulders, unable to finish his sentence.

"Yes, slow." Hermione breathed out, throat tight knowing she had such power over the normally collected wizard. Together, they moved slowly, finding a rhythm that made her moan and made him groan. Their lips and tongues entangled, mimicking the motions of their bodies.

Soon they found their release together; both couldn't hold back much longer.

…

His magic rolled through them both, cleaning the residue of their frantic love-making. She was sitting bonelessly beside him; head rested on his shoulder. It felt so good to be able to touch him freely, to feel his skin next to hers. She sighed happily, drawing the blanket over them.

"Hermione." His warm hand cupped her chin and softly turned her to face him. She never saw him looked so relaxed and content, and happy, almost gleeful. His eyes were so full with love she thought she was going to drown on them.

"I…" His jaw was working up and down, seemingly unable to form the words. "I…" He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers, slowly nuzzling her nose. "I love you." His voice close to a whisper.

"I know, silly man." She murmured against his lips, "Your potion has spoken for you."

They smiled against each other's lips, and no more words were needed for a very long time.

…...

 ** _Please review! I love reading all the reviews and knowing that my work had bring some happiness into someone's life. Also, if you want more SSHG sweetness you could go check my other works, all HEA guaranteed!_**


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